


Mess of Me

by Fox (Spacefoxen)



Series: Something Just Like This [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: (no one is harmed though), (unless you count an innocent chair), Emotional Healing, Eventual relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Multi, Panic Attacks, Violent Outburst, and after coming down from a battle high, bruce is tired, brunnhilde finally lets herself mourn, electric sparkle Thor, everyone is going through shit, it all catches up to them in different ways, lil bit of brunnhilde's backstory, thor has a violent meltdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacefoxen/pseuds/Fox
Summary: It's all too much, and they each crash in their own way.Thor, with rage and violence.Bruce, with brooding and words.Brunnhilde, with drinking and grief.Each finds help and solace in another.Immediately follows part one of the series and won't make much sense without first reading that part.Contains parts 2, 3, and 4.





	1. II (two) I Wanna Reverse This Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy with the response part one has gotten! it makes me so happy.
> 
> This part is the immediate letdown of the previous heightened emotions, both from the movie and part one.  
> There is a little bit of me in each of their reactions and thoughts, tbh. oh well.
> 
> Much thanks to [GingerEnvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerEnvy/pseuds/GingerEnvy) for the beta!! You rock!

After Bruce and Brunnhilde had left his rooms, Thor continued to sit on the edge of his bed. He was exhausted, even after the short nap he had earlier. 

Despite his exhaustion, however, he couldn't seem to quiet his nerves. He felt jittery, shaken, and he really didn’t want to think about why. He was used to feeling energetic and upbeat after a battle, full of good cheer and the need for company. He didn’t know what to do with himself right now, feeling the exact opposite of anything he’d ever felt after a fight.

He let his mind wander, trying to get it to calm down enough for him to feel like sleeping again. Instead, his mind began to race faster, more and more thoughts colliding and shuffling for attention.

He had lost his mother years ago, but the loss of his father so recently had opened up that old wound. He no longer had parents and Asgard no longer had their wise leaders to help them through the loss of their home. He knew he was supposed to be the new leader of Asgard, but he doubted his ability to do so with the same ease and care his parents had. He wasn’t ready for such a responsibility, and there wasn’t anyone who could help him with the transition.

He’d lost his hammer. He didn’t even know how to begin processing that. Fighting without her felt...wrong. Difficult. He missed the weight of her in his hands or at his hip.

He’d gotten Loki back, which was great. Their relationship might even be on the mend. But in exchange he had both gained and lost a sister in the span of a few days. He hadn’t even known he had a sister. He would have liked to have gotten to know her, had she not been so power hungry -- she made Loki’s power grabs seem amateurish and immature.

His best friends were gone. The Warriors Three, cut down like they were nothing. He didn’t know where the Lady Sif was. If she had been in the battle or in a different realm. What was he going to say to her? How was he supposed to explain the loss of everything they had known, the loss of their friends? Gods, he hoped he hadn’t lost her, too.

Sometime during his brooding, he was aware of Brunnhilde quietly coming into his room. She sat next to him, a soft presence. She didn’t talk, for which Thor was incredibly grateful. She simply placed a hand on his where it rested on his knee, and sat with him. 

Thor distractedly realized that she had been in his place before, after the first battle with Hela. She had lost everything then, too. He turned his hand over, letting their palms rest together, and squeezed her hand gently. She squeezed back.

Time passed, and Brunnhilde let go and stood up. Thor’s only acknowledgement of this was to clench his now empty hand into a tight fist. Brunnhilde ran her hand through his short hair, whispering softly that while she was going, she wouldn’t be far.

He didn’t recall her actually leaving.

His head ached. He felt unbalanced and disoriented. He was shaking. His chest felt tight and his breath started coming fast and shallow. His mind kept racing and he couldn't take it anymore.

With a sudden roar, Thor swung his fist down against the bed frame. It jolted and bent, but Thor hardly noticed it. Instead, he stood and spun toward the bed, grasping at the blankets and ripping them off. He flung them across the room, then grabbed a pillow and tossed it too, for good measure.

He headed for one of the nightstands next and upended it with another yell, sending its contents flying through the air. 

He lost track of time after that. 

He didn’t come back to himself until some time later, when a soft sound broke through the haze in his brain. Bruce was standing in the doorway, a sad and concerned look on his face. He didn’t say anything, just made sure that Thor was aware of his presence.

Thor breathed in deeply, his lungs stuttering and his hands clenched into tight fists, blue sparks shooting off his knuckles. It was then that he noticed the destruction around him.

The room was in chaos. Both night stands had ended up tossed on their sides. The sheets and blankets were a torn mess on the floor.  A coffee table had been flipped over, one of its legs broken. He had thrown one of the room’s two chairs against a wall, shattering it beyond repair. Most telling of all were the scorch marks that streaked the walls. At some point, Thor had lost so much control that he had discharged electricity at random. It was a minor miracle that nothing had caught fire or exploded. 

Thor sat with a thud on the broken bed, his shoulders shaking. He dropped his head into his hand and he dimly realized that his cheeks were streaked with tears.

_ Gods, I'm a wreck,  _ he thought, trying to take in the damage he didn't even remember causing.

The entire time, Bruce moved quietly and unobtrusively around him, righting the mess that Thor had made. He sat the night tables upright, placed the tossed pillows on the bed. He grabbed the torn blankets and set them by the door to be removed later, along with the broken table and chair.

Whenever Bruce got close to Thor, he’d quietly murmur something, telegraphing to Thor that he was there, that he understood, that everything was alright. Thor recognized the concern on his friend's face, but had no idea how to begin to help clear it.

At some point, Bruce urged Thor to stand so he could remove what was left of the torn sheets. Thor stood there, still shaking and breathing heavily. His throat hurt and his thoughts were still fuzzy. Bruce gently placed a hand on Thor’s bicep and guided the shaken man to the now upright, and only, chair. The whole time, Bruce talked quietly about his PhDs, not seeming to care that Thor wasn’t taking in any of his words.

The soft flow of Bruce's rough voice was enough and Thor started to calm ever so slightly.

Bruce moved away to find sheets and remake the bed. Once that was done and he returned to Thor, he started to remove the armor Thor still wore.

Forehead creased in concern, Bruce started with the shoulder pauldron and the various buckles and belts. Thor was pliant in Bruce's hands, his eyes down cast. A distant part of him was ashamed of his outburst, of needing this kind of help. 

A larger part of him was incredibly grateful for Bruce’s presence in that moment.

The heavy chest plate and arm guards were next. Eventually, Thor found himself in the soft pants that went on underneath all the leather and metal, and little else. 

Trying for a little levity, Thor waggled his eyebrows, though his gaze still didn't quite meet Bruce's. “If you wanted to undress me, you only needed to ask.”  

Bruce's mouth quirked up ever so slightly, his hands dropping to his sides.

Even in his own distress, Thor could sense his friend's. Lowly, Thor said, “You don't need to trouble yourself so, Banner.”

Bruce smiled softly, sadly, “I know. But I know you and Brunnhilde did something to help the Other Guy. If accepting my help is too difficult, consider this payment for earlier.”

Thor frowned. “That... does not actually make me feel any better.” He paused. “And not really what I meant.” The more time he spent with Bruce, the more confused Thor got about Bruce's mannerisms and self deprecation. Thor narrowed his eyes in thought, but his mind was too muddled to come up with the question he wanted to ask.

Bruce just shrugged, not responding to Thor’s comment. Instead he indicated Thor should move back to the bed, which he did. Thor found he wasn’t feeling much of anything at the moment; not physical sensation or emotional. So he slid into the bed without commenting when Bruce pulled the fresh blankets down.

Bruce stood awkwardly for a moment, then spoke. “I can… stay if you want, or I can go. It’s up to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of himself. “I used to sit with Tony after he’d go on one of his benders…” He trailed off.

Thor doesn’t speak. Instead, he reaches for Bruce’s hand when he shifted a little and looked like was going to leave. Thor squoze his hand and tugged on it lightly.

Looking out of his depth, Bruce bit his lip and sat gingerly on the side of the bed, hand still in Thor’s. It was trembling slightly.

Thor was nearly asleep now. He had burned out everything he felt and now he just wanted to rest. Something niggled at the back of his mind though, preventing him from fully settling down.

When the thought finally surfaced, Thor nearly sat back up in bed. Only Bruce’s presence kept him from doing so.

“Banner. I...I apologize for the comments I made, back on Sakaar. For..making you feel like I only wanted to help you to get the Hulk…” Thor’s rough voice trailed off and he tried meeting Bruce’s eyes to see how his words were taken, as inadequate as they were, and didn’t quite meet them.

Before Bruce could gather his words and respond, though, Thor rushed on. “I was..stressed. And worried. I had found myself imprisoned and without an ally and then I found you, and I knew you! We were friends and I knew I could count on you and your counterpart to help me save Asgard. I…” He trailed off again as Bruce tightened his grip on Thor’s.

“I know, Thor. I know.” Bruce patted Thor’s hand with his free one. “We can talk about it later, after you've had some proper sleep.”

Thor wanted to protest, but he knew Bruce was right. He closed his eyes, Bruce's hand still in his, and drifted from consciousness.


	2. III (three) I Am My Own Affliction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's turn to process things

Thor had finally drifted to sleep, his hand going lax around Bruce’s own. Bruce sighed, stood up, and rubbed at both of his eyes with his fingers, then ran his hands through his hair.

He was _so_ in over his head.

Bruce quietly left Thor’s bedside and shuffled out of the room while trying not to think about how he was currently in a giant spaceship, that he had been trapped in his own mind as the Hulk for two years, that as the Hulk he had been a _gladiator champion,_ and everything else that had happened in the last few days .

He mostly succeeded, but he still felt an undercurrent of anxiety drift over him. He shoved it aside.

Standing outside of the doors as they automatically slid shut, he pondered where he was going to go next. His choice was made for him when his stomach made a loud, protesting rumble; he couldn’t remember when he last ate.

Moving aimlessly in the halls of the ship for a few moments, Bruce hesitantly got the attention of one of the Asgardian refugees by tapping her lightly on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, do you happen to know where the mess hall has been placed? Or anywhere there is food?”

The Asgardian woman turned to him and smiled tiredly. “Yes,” she exhaled. “There were food stores aboard the ship, thankfully. I think the main room for dining is just down the main passage here, about four...five? Five doors down, I think. Take that door, then follow that passage all the way to the end.”

Bruce nodded his thanks as the tired woman continued her way down the passage in the opposite direction of his destination. Following the woman’s directions, he hoped the food didn’t resemble army rations or that it was too alien looking to be palatable.

God, but he hoped there was tea.

\-----------

Bruce did end up finding tea in the galley. He didn’t know what was in it, but the Asgardian man who helped him find it assured him that it was a calming blend and that it shouldn’t be toxic to him.

Not that it would have mattered if it was, really. His own blood was toxic, after all.

He sat at one of the tables that had been set up, his hands wrapped around the mug, reveling in its warmth and fragrance. He’d worry about food in a minute. Right now, he just wanted to take what comfort he could in the familiarity of a hot cup of tea.

As he sipped his tea, his eyes slipped shut and his breathing evened. He consciously worked to slow his breathing and still his shaking hands. He had to keep calm; he wasn't going to panic.

He _wasn't._

He had just set his cup down, intending to finally get himself some food, when he felt a tap on his left shoulder. He jumped and twisted around, fists raised and his heart rate once again spiking, a shot of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Easy there, Big Guy.”

It was Valkyrie -- Brunnhilde -- and she had her hands raised in front of her, fingers splayed open, her eyes wide.

Bruce turned back towards his cup and dropped his head in his hands.

“Sorry. Just. Don’t sneak up like that.”

Brunnhilde’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Yeah...you went a little green there for a moment.”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably, and Brunnhilde dropped it, sitting in the vacant seat in front of him.

Leaning forward, Brunnhilde frowned slightly, her eyes alight with concern. Quietly, she asked, “How's Thor?”

Bruce sighed. Brunnhilde was first to recognize the signs of Thor's breakdown. After she had taken him to help with the worst of the injured refugees, she had slipped away again, presumably back to Thor. A while later, she had come back to find him and expressed her concern for Thor. By the time he was able to leave his patients and get to Thor's quarters, Thor had already destroyed his room.

“Uh, he’s...well, I don’t really know. Distressed, for sure. Definitely hurting...He's sleeping now.” He tapped his fingers pensively on the side of his mug. “He's... going to need support I think. Help.” He drifted off, thinking about what he had seen upon entering Thor's room.

“What happened?” Brunnhilde asked, but Bruce barely heard as he got lost in his thoughts.

\--

As Bruce had approached the room, the air had reeked of ozone and scorched metal. The closer he got, the heavier the smell hung in the air. A yell lanced through the air, full of pain and loss, and Bruce’s heart clenched.

Steeling himself as he waited for the doors to Thor's room to slide open, Bruce took a deep breath. He had no idea what to expect when he walked through the doors, didn't know if he was being foolish going in without backup or protection. He knew the Hulk would step in if necessary, but he _really_ didn't want to change again so soon.

Seeing Thor like that had rattled Bruce. He had seen all of the Avengers in one state of distress or another. Tony, in one of his manic episodes in the early morning hours. Natasha, unresponsive and catatonic after a hard mission. Clint, tired and beat up more often than not. Steve, tearing into the gym equipment when he got lost in his thoughts. He couldn't recall Thor ever being anything but friendly, open, and relaxed in a way the rest of the team rarely was.

This...this was something else. Thor stood in the middle of the wrecked room, his chest heaving. His eyes were down cast and glowed with electricity, sparks and small bolts arcing around him from his body. His hands were clenched in tight fists and his body trembled.

Bruce had made a soft sound in the back of his throat; he had wanted to call out to Thor, to comfort him, but he had no idea how the troubled god would react, so he refrained.

The small sound must have been enough, because Thor’s eyes had seemed to refocus, his attention caught on Bruce. Bruce stood with his hands out at his sides, trying to telegraph calm. Thor’s eyes moved over him and then seemed to notice the state of the room. He trembled again, his fingers still releasing sparks, and then sort of collapsed onto the broken bed. He dropped his head to his hands, shoulders shaking.

He was crying.

Bruce swallowed uncomfortably. He had no idea what to do but his heart went out to Thor. It wasn’t easy, coming out of a semi fugue state and seeing the destruction you had caused but didn't remember making.

Instead of making a big deal out of it, Bruce had moved slowly and carefully around the room, slowly picking up the broken pieces, trying not to startle Thor. He offered comfort where he could, and companionship when Thor had asked for it.

\--

Bruce came out of his thoughts when he felt the sensation of eyes upon him. Once his eyes had refocused on his cup of tea in front of him, Bruce glanced up at Brunnhilde, then remembered she had asked a question. He felt his face heat up.

“He kind of destroyed his room...” He sat up a bit straighter in his chair and leaned in towards Brunnhilde. “In all the years I have known Thor, he’s always been the most stable out of our little band of heroes. Seeing him like that? He’s gotta be going through a lot right now.”

Brunnhilde hummed. “I’m sure he’s not the only one.”

Bruce gave a noncommittal shrug to that as he sat back in his chair, once again avoiding eye contact.

Brunnhilde just gazed at him, a small crease forming between her brows. Bruce looked back at his cup, his fingers tapping against it in a random rhythm. He could still feel Brunnhilde’s eyes on him though, and he could feel his cheeks flush even more than they had been already. He shifted a little in his seat, shoulders hunching.

He had never liked being the center of attention before, and especially after, the accident. He had gotten good at hiding in plain sight, at being unobtrusive and mostly invisible. Being the object of Brunnhilde’s gaze was disconcerting and while he was a bit uncomfortable, he also felt a small _thrill_ go up his spine. She was beautiful and strong and so very intimidating.

He had always had a thing for strong, smart, and competent women.  

“Bruce…”

Bruce jerked his head up, once again meeting the Valkyrie’s gaze. She had a soft, puzzled smile on her face as she looked at him.

“How…? You’re the...Hulk...How did that even happen?”

Bruce sighed. This was going to have to happen at some point or another. Might as well explain now, he supposed.

“Food, first. I’m ravenous and this will take more than a few minutes to explain.” He got up from the table and glanced back down at Brunnhilde. “Want anything?”

She shook her head, her lose hair spilling over one eye. “I’m good, thanks.”

Bruce grabbed a bowl of something that resembled oatmeal and an odd, bright blue fruit about the size of a pear and then sat back down at the table. Brunnhilde had piled her hair into a loose bun at the top of her head.

It was a good look.

Sighing at himself, Bruce took a bite of the oatmeal substance. It wasn’t great -- kind of bitter and sweet with an odd musky undertone -- but he had certainly had worse. When Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow at him, he sighed audibly.

“It’s a long story. The short version of it is that I was a scientist and working on an experimental drug that would turn humans into super-soldiers. It’s a complex substance and it had only been successfully created one other time. Anyway, something went wrong, I was exposed to _way_ too much gamma radiation, and somehow the Other Guy was created. I’m...still unsure of how it happened, to be honest.” Bruce tried to be as concise as possible. He didn’t want to talk about the soldiers the Other Guy killed, about being hunted, how he had lost Betty and everything he had ever known. He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

Brunnhilde had a contemplative look on her face, her eyes shrewd. She was looking at him so intently that Bruce swallowed and darted his eyes back down to his food and took another bite.

“You talk about the ‘Other Guy’ as though you aren’t the same person. That’s why you didn’t recognize me? Are you not...aware when the Hulk is present?” Her eyes were bright and genuinely curious. He answered her questions with barely any hesitation; he had thought about them so much already that the explanations rolled off his tongue with ease.

He also felt he owed her the truth because of her previously established friendship with the Hulk.

“We’re the same person only in the sense that we share the same body and headspace. I retain practically nothing of what the Other Guy does.” It was part of why changing was so terrifying, but he didn’t say that. “The Other Guy seems to have more awareness when I’m me than I do when I’m him, which is frustrating.” He frowned, thinking of how to explain and Brunnhilde just watched him; her quiet patience with him eased a knot that had been building in his chest. “I can...I feel his emotions, sometimes, underneath my own. He seems to be aware enough of what is going on to be able to push forward when I am in danger.” He didn’t elaborate more, that the Hulk protected him from his own actions as much as from the actions of others.

Brunnhilde pursed her lips. “Why hadn’t you changed back before?”

Bruce sat his spoon down in his bowl and contemplated how to answer such a loaded question. In for a penny, in for a pound?

“Well,” he started, picking his words carefully. “The last time I had changed into the Other Guy was over two years ago.”

“Two _years_?”

Bruce nodded, tangling his fingers together anxiously. “Everything was a mess. There was a huge battle, we didn’t know if we were going to make it out alive. At the same time I...I was in a relationship of _some_ sort that was crumbling apart, that wasn’t...that wasn’t good for either of us, I don't think.” He frowned, remembering, and then said almost to himself, “She pushed me into a pit to force the change…”

The pain of that mess with Nat was still fresh. To have trusted someone so completely, only to have that same person hurt him to get to the Hulk? It made his chest ache. It had been two years for everyone else, but to him it was only days ago. And the shit with Nat was just part of it. “God, so much of that disaster was my fault in the first place...” Bruce dropped his head into hands, combing his fingers through his short hair and tugging at it. “I bring nothing but pain and suffering in my wake--” _Harlem, New York, Johannesburg, Sokovia..._

His emotional distress was cut short when Brunnhilde placed her hand gently on his wrist. He glanced up at her through the gap between his forearms, a bit embarrassed at the tears he could feel building in the corners of his eyes.

Brunnhilde wasn't looking at him with derision or disgust. Instead, her eyes were full of compassion and understanding; he was so rarely at the receiving end of such emotions and he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

The corner of Brunnhilde’s mouth quirked up in a tired and bitter smirk. “We’re a real pair,” she sighed, still holding onto Bruce’s arm. She gave his wrist a brief squeeze, then let her hand fall, fingers trailing down to his elbow before she sat back in her seat.

She looked to the side before continuing. “Damn, I could use a stiff drink for this conversation.” Her eyes flitted to his, her expression unreadable, before she looked away again. “When I was trying to find you -- the Hulk, I guess -- I ran into Loki, who was also trying to find you. He...did something to my head,” she tapped at her forehead with her finger. “Brought up something I had been working and drinking to forget for so long. I lost...everything. Everyone. I saw--” her voice cracked, and Bruce wanting nothing more than to reach out and offer comfort, but some instinct, perhaps even the Hulk, told him that doing so would break the moment. So he watched as Brunnhilde looked down and bit her lip. Stubbornly, she continued. “I saw Skuld, my everything, struck down while trying to protect me.” She laughed humorously. “Survivor’s guilt is the fucking worst and I had been trying to drown it out for so long.”

Bruce tried to sort through his conflicted emotions -- on one hand, having someone understand that guilt, to know what it’s like to lose someone close to you and have it be _your_ fault, helped him breathe a little easier in that moment. Just knowing he wasn’t alone in his pain was a relief. On the other hand, he felt awful for feeling relieved she understood, because he wouldn’t wish that understanding on anyone.

He was awful at consoling anyone, at offering comfort, so he didn’t try beyond extending a hand out to her to hold if she wished. She did.

They sat together in silence as he finished his meal singlehandedly; it wasn’t uncomfortable in the least and he felt himself relax into Brunnhilde’s company as the time passed.

A thought came to Bruce’s mind, one that had been tickling his brain since he had woken up to find himself wrapped around an exhausted Brunnhilde.

Tone laced with confusion, Bruce said into the quiet between them, “My last transformation back… it didn’t hurt. At least, not like it usually does. Usually it's excruciating. And to be honest, I wasn’t even expecting to ever be _Bruce_ again.” He looked up at Brunnhilde contemplatively. “What happened after the battle?”

_How did I end up in bed with_ you? he thought to himself, but didn’t ask.

Brunnhilde sat back in her seat, eyes alight with mischief. “Thor and I finished wearing the Hulk out.”

Bruce went to stutter out a reply -- damnit his face was red again -- but Brunnhilde must have taken pity on him, because she chuckled and elaborated. “Back on Sakaar I used to wrestle with the Hulk in the evenings. It seemed to help him settle down and sleep better. So, after the battle, when Hulk was restless, we sparred for a while. Then he decided he wanted to take a nap and that Thor and I would be his cuddle buddies.”

She shrugged at that, not seeming to understand just how significant it was to Bruce, that someone would look after the Hulk, would curl up with him for a _nap_ . No wonder it felt like the Other Guy was quiet and content _,_ even as he currently thrummed with a constant mild anxiety.

“I...thank you.” It was inadequate by far, but it was all he had.

Brunnhilde seemed to understand anyway. She smiled at him. “It wasn’t a problem at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The draft of part four has been finished! It needs a lot of tweaking and adding and then a beta, but the bare bones of it is finished. and that's the hard part. I'll hopefully have it done within the week, if not sooner!
> 
> thanks for reading! please leave a comment, i love hearing feedback!


	3. IV (four) Oh, When You Can't Forgive Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brunnhilde finally lets herself grieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh it's the last chapter! Thanks for reading, I really appreciate the comments and kudos! 
> 
> This is the most and fastest i've written anything and it's been a lot of fun. There's something about these three that just...idk. urge me to write. I've got a lot more planned and I hope to start part 5 tonight or tomorrow. I have no idea how long it will take, but i hope no longer than a week. I do know it's a 2 part piece from Thor's perspective.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and I hope you like this piece in Bru's perspective!

Eventually, Bruce left, presumably to get some proper sleep; the poor guy looked like he could sleep for days. Brunnhilde knew she should probably do the same, but fear of reliving the memory Loki had dragged up kept her from doing so. Instead, she decided she was going to drink herself into exhausted oblivion. Again. At least then she’d be too tired to dream.

Brunnhilde managed to find a bottle of  _ something _ after rummaging through a few of the unpacked supply boxes that had been stored on the ship. As she took her first swig --god it was awful-- the thought occurred to her that she might want to get some food in her stomach before she drank too much. Shrugging to herself, Brunnhilde ignored the thought and continued to drink anyway.

She was a good third of the way through her rather large bottle when someone jerked it out of her hand from behind her. Ready to deck whoever took her bottle, Brunnhilde whipped around to confront the thief. She paused, though, when she saw it was Thor. Thor, who was currently taking a rather hefty swig from  _ her  _ bottle. She decided to let it slide, however, because he looked like shit. But so did she, so she didn’t comment on it.

When she wordlessly held her hand out for her booze, Thor passed it to her then moved around the table to plop gracefully down in the seat Bruce had vacated earlier. They sat in silence for a while and passed the bottle between themselves.

The bottle was more than halfway gone when Thor spoke up, his voice low and raspy from the little sleep he had managed, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

“I miss my mother. She was so wise and loving. I miss her so much, everyday.” Brunnhilde blinked at the open admission as Thor continued, his distress causing the words to come in a rush. “I miss my mother, I just lost my father. The loss of him only seems to make the loss of  _ her _ worse, somehow. Hela killed my best friends and I wasn’t even there to see their passing. She just...cut them down. While I was piddling around on Sakaar. I have no idea what I’m doing now.” His shoulders slumped and he dropped his head to his chest, eyes closed.” There are so many people who are looking to me for guidance and leadership and I don’t even know if we’re going in the right direction for Earth right now and how long it will take to get there.”

Brunnhilde frowned at Thor. “While I appreciate the trust here, why are you talking to me about this? You hardly know me, really.”

Thor cocked his head to the side, his eyes tired and hooded. “Who else do I have to talk to?”

Brunnhilde considered that and internally flinched at the truth of his words. As he said, his parents and best friends were gone. Heimdall was currently working with Korg to get the Asgardian refugees and the Contender rebellion settled into new quarters for the long journey to Earth. She supposed he could talk to Bruce, but Bruce was trying to get some rest right then.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he had unceremoniously opened up to her, maybe it was because of the conversation she had with Bruce earlier. Whatever it was, when Brunnhilde opened her mouth to speak, the words out of her mouth were not what she had meant to say.

“I miss my soulmate.” Thor blinked up at her. “Gods, I miss her so much. And your stupid brother dragged up the memories of her death, of the death of all my sisters, and I had been trying so hard to forget them and I can’t now. I can’t.” She took a deep breath and it shuddered in her lungs. “Gods  _ dammit _ this is the second time I’ve blurted this out in the span of a few hours. How fucking pathetic. I lost her eons ago and everyone here, especially you, have lost people just recently.” She felt horrible for turning his soft confession into something about her. She could deal with her losses, hell, she had been dealing with them, and now here they were again, getting all up in her face and dominating her conversations. Again, pathetic.

Thor reached across the table to her, and wow there had been a lot of hand holding and touching lately, but whatever, and touched her wrist delicately with his large hands. “You’re allowed to grieve, too, Brunnhilde. I’m sure the memory Loki dredged up currently feels as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.” He paused, and she nodded hesitantly. He bobbed his head back. “It’s good to talk about those we have lost. It helps keep their memory alive and it helps us heal, even if it hurts in the process.”

Brunnhilde felt her eyes brim a bit with tears and she chuckled wetly. “I didn’t know you were so wise,” she teased.

“Shut up,” Thor pouted.  _ Pouted.  _ Brunnhilde felt her mouth twitch into a small smile despite her current mood. 

“Tell me about these friends of yours,” she said, hoping to ease some of his pain, partly to distract herself from her own mounting distress.

Thor’s eye lit up, a smile touching his own face, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. He had a kind face. “The Warriors Three, they were called!  Fandral the Dashing, Volstagg the Valiant, and Hogun the Grim. They were my best friends and we went on many adventures together. Fandral was a brave and highly skilled swordsman. Volstagg was a man of great humor and heart, both of which were only matched by his girth and love of food! Hogun was a master of weapons and a very skilled warrior. The Lady Sif joined us on many of our adventures. Though, I am currently unsure of her own whereabouts…” 

Thor paused for a moment, then chuckled softly, his eyes going soft and distant as he recalled his lost friends. He recounted tales of bravery and fool-hearted adventures, of epic battles with frost giants, and told the tale of how the Warriors became friends: on a journey to find the wolf Fenris, who they had dared each other to pat upon the head. 

Brunnhilde found herself chuckling more frequently as Thor’s own demeanor lightened up with his tales. His eyes shone brightly and he talked expansively with his hands; Brunnhilde had to rescue their growing number of bottles of alcohol from being knocked off the table on more than one occasion.

Eventually, Brunnhilde began to open up about Skuld, her soulmate and sister in arms.

“She was the strongest, most beautiful woman I have ever known. She had the most gorgeous golden hair that she would tie up into intricate braids.” Brunnhilde shook her head fondly from side to side as she recalled memories. “You should have seen her one the battlefield. She wielded this sword that was...gods, two thirds her height in length and weighed half as much as she did. She’d swing it like it weighed nothing!”

Brunnhilde continued sharing stories about Skuld, about how they met and trained to be apart of the Valkyrie elite. The longer she talked, the lighter her heart felt. Thor was right. It did feel good to remember the fallen.

Eventually, Brunnhilde lost herself in her memories and she stopped talking. Thor let her drift off and sat there quietly with her, for which Brunnhilde was grateful. She hadn’t actively thought of Skuld in so long. She felt ashamed for not having honored her love in the time since her death, that she had instead wasted the years away in drink and pointless violence.

“I’m such a failure,” she whispered.

Thor leaned over the table. “Nonsense, Brunnhilde. Why would you say such a thing? You are strong and brave and a great companion to have in battle.”

“But I  _ am _ ,” Brunnhilde insisted, ignoring Thor’s compliments. She brushed angrily at the tears that had started falling down her cheeks. “I am.” 

Despite her best efforts, Brunnhilde broke down in tears. Huge sobs wracked her body and she shuddered, trying to get enough air into her lungs as she let go of all the pain she had been shoving aside for so long. She couldn’t recall the last time she had cried and properly mourned for all she had lost, but she knew it had been a very long time.

She had failed not only Skuld and her sisters, but herself. 

Upon completing their training, a valkyrie cast aside their given name to adopt a new one, one that reflected the attributes and morals most prized by the warriors.

Brunnhilde’s name meant  _ protection  _ and  _ armor _ . By taking the name, she had vowed to protect those weaker than herself, to defend her sisters in battle, to be the shield that protected the vulnerable. She had failed that vow, in the first battle against Hela.

Skuld’s name had meant  _ future _ . It also meant  _ debt _ . Brunnhilde bitterly thought that while Skuld had probably sacrificed herself for her, to give her a future, there wasn’t a future without Skuld in it. That instead of a future, Skuld had left her with a life debt, one that she had no idea how to repay.

She dimly noticed when Thor rose from his seat and came to her side. He gathered her to his chest and simply held her. She buried her face in his chest, heedless of whether or not there were others around them, and continued to cry. 

Grasping at his shirt, Brunnhilde struggled to pull herself together. She took deep, shaking breaths while she wiped angrily at her tear stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, Thor,” she said, as she tried to move away from Thor’s large frame. “I…”

“Shhh,” Thor hushed again, drawing her back to his chest. She could have easily broken out of his embrace; she knew it, he knew it. He was letting her know that she was welcome to stay, but if she really wanted to go, he wouldn’t stop her a second time. 

Brunnhilde slumped against him, this time willfully, tiredly. Her eyes were still damp and she suspected she looked a mess. But Thor was a comfort, once she took advantage of gratefully. She leaned her forehead against his collarbone--gods he was tall-- and in turn, Thor gently rested his chin on the top of her head.  

Swaying slightly from side to side, Thor continued to hold her. He didn’t say anything, just kept her company and offered support. Brunnhilde suspected that he was gaining as much comfort from their extended hug as she was, and she was alright with that.

After a while, however, she started feeling self conscious. She pushed at his chest lightly, and he unwrapped his arms from around her back with only a little hesitation. Brunnhilde stepped back and looked up at Thor, her hand coming up to rub at her cheek and neck, slightly embarrassed.

“Ahh, thanks,” she said quietly.

He just smiled tiredly at her and offered  a small nod.

It was then that Brunnhilde realized they were alone in the galley. She felt her cheeks begin to flush in shame; she must have made things so awkward for anyone else that they up and left.

Thor noticed her glance and subsequent embarrassment. “Ah. I, uh, requested that the others that were here leave, to give you privacy. They had no problem doing so.”

He was so  _ kind _ and  _ considerate _ , even after all he had so recently lost. He compassion felt like too much just then; it was warm and comforting, but also stifling and  _ too much. _ She hadn’t been on the receiving end of compassionate and understand hugs in...gods, ages. She needed to get away, to collect herself. To figure out what she was going to do next, now that Asgard was saved.

She smiled the best she could at Thor. “Thank you, Thor.” She rubbed tiredly at her forehead, then glanced back up at him. “I think I need to...go.”

His mouth quirked up in understanding. “I believe Heimdall has your quarters assigned to the same quadrant as mine and Bruce’s.”

Brunnhilde nodded at him as she started to back up toward the galley entrance. “Alright. See you around?”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the name Skuld came from a conversation I had with Roxashighwind when we were having emotions at each other. It's a name that does come up in Norse Mythology. It's the name of one of the Norns, as well as being attributed to at least one of the Valkyrie. It does mean either Future or Debt and i think that duel meaning is really interesting. And with Bru's literally meaning armored battle maiden and protection? I couldn't help but add to the Feels that I already get from their characters.
> 
> I hope i do her justice. I love Bru so much.
> 
> (Also, one of the stories Thor tells about the Warriors Three actually came from one of the comic runs, though i have no idea which one.)


End file.
